thirteen scenes from last year
i. girls shivering at the brink of dawn, welcoming the mo(u)rning with open arms, weeping in the light
ii. i kiss you in a dream that tears like a wound bleeding blood and honey and i can’t tell which tastes sweeter anymore
iii. a piano in an abandoned corner, rusting at the edges, still waiting for a boy to play his song
iv. my father’s tired eyes hidden behind bold headlines, my mother picking under her nails, the way that this too is a tragedy that will never make it to the front page
v. old birthday decoration at the back of the closet, misshapen candles in kitchen drawers, all the children that will never again remember
vi. pale ankles dipping into concrete oceans, heaving lungs filled with water, all the memories we try to drown with the salt
vii. i wish on a star that never falls
viii. lime candies and peppermint sticks in aching mouths. cavities grow in hollow bones.
ix. your voice across the traffic as you tell me you are learning to love yourself. your voice as you ask me if it always hurts this bad.
x. a girl at a stoplight pauses to stare at the stars. one day, she will let herself miss them.
xi. the empty birdcages inside our chests, hurting still. all the hearts lost to the world will soon find their way home.
xii. eight degrees out on a lonely evening, broken static rings within silent walls. but here, i am still learning how to become.
xiii. twelve plants lining the window, empty mugs on the counter, shoes scattered all around. today, this will be enough to stay
Anushka Nagarmath is a poet and writer living in Mumbai, India. She has previously placed in the Top 30 Category of the Wingword Poetry Competiton, 2020 and has been published in the anthology for the same. Writing is her way of giving a space to the feelings she cannot otherwise name in real life. To follow along with her journey of words, you can find her on instagram at @anuwritesdreams.